


Do It Even if I Don't Want You To

by fourfreedoms



Series: Real world AU series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time-stamp for The Paint That Hides The Crime. Sam's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do It Even if I Don't Want You To

Dad’s been in and out steadily for weeks, upsetting their careful equilibrium. He’s so drunk tonight he can’t get up out of his chair, but he can yell. Sam will start breaking windows if he listens. Dean’s in the shower, water on porcelain screening him from their father’s intoxicated lunacy. Sam leans against the paper-thin wall of his bedroom, feeling anger and desperation thrum through him.

Dad starts calling his name, bitter bleats that Sam marches pitilessly past, English reading in hand. He shoves at the bathroom door, having to ply more pressure against the warped wood. He expects Dean to notice, to shout at him when it finally bangs open. But there is nothing but the sound of spray on skin. He sighs and sits on the faux-marble counter, back sliding against the condensation of the mirror.

The crisp pages of his book wilt from moisture, but he can’t hear his dad’s insensible fury or smell the bitter burn of alcohol rising off his skin. Dean’s black jeans and t-shirt are strewn across the toilet, pack of cigarettes and brushed steel lighter lying proudly on top. Sam leans forward and picks the pack up, flicking the top open. It’s crushed flat, like Dean’s been stuffing it into his back pocket. There are only four cigarettes left.

Sam sighs. Dean’s been chain-smoking, ever since that night, before Dad came home. His fingers are now yellow with nicotine, not even the shower can wash it off. Sam plucks one out of the box and sticks it between his lips so that he can light it up.

He inhales and the first sear of smoke hits his throat. Sam hasn’t smoked since he was fourteen, playing around at school. He breathes out tar and chemicals, watching it swirl in the bathroom’s humidity, book forgotten on his lap.

The shower clicks off and Dean thrusts the curtain back unaware that he should be concerned for his modesty. He doesn’t quite start when he sees Sam, but Sam readily sees the muscles jump and tighten under his skin. He keeps his expression dispassionate, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth for another puff.

Dad’s ragged shouting penetrates their tableau. Dean yanks the towel of the rack, and ties it tight around his waist. Sam keeps his eyes casually averted.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, broad back turned to his brother. Sam follows the line of his spine with his eyes, slight swell of his ass revealed by the terry cloth. Dean shivers like he can feel it.

Sam pauses before answering, waiting for Dean to turn back to him. “Every cigarette you don’t smoke is one step farther away from cancer.”

Dean reaches for him, pulling him up from his slump against the glass. He slides his fingers into Sam’s hair and kisses him, lips harsh and unyielding. Sam lets him, head tipping back on his neck when Dean’s teeth sink into his lower lip. Their breaths seem too loud, echoing off the tiles. Dean’s fingers dig into his skull, but Sam doesn’t mind. He spreads his thighs to accommodate Dean’s body and Dean moans, shoving in closer. And it just that moment the cigarette in Sam’s fingers burns down.

Sam tears his mouth away, crying out and tossing the cigarette aside. The moment is broken. Dad’s slurring shouts from the other room solidify into something identifiable: Dean and Son of a Bitch. Dean backs away from Sam, shaking his head. His cheeks are red, mouth swollen and dark with blood. Sam stares down at the burn on his second knuckle, pretending not to notice as Dean leaves to wait on Dad. He gets down from the counter to run his hand under the tap.

He has to avert his eyes from his own reflection, because the person he sees there looks wild and wanton. This was a bad idea, terrible. Sam knows if he has this, he will never be able to leave.


End file.
